


Black Mirror

by lea_ysaye



Series: No Reflexion [1]
Category: Boondock Saints (Movies), The Walking Dead (TV), The Walking Dead - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Anorexia, Bulimia, Character Death, Crossover, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gay Sex, Hurt, M/M, Telepathic Bond, Telepathy, Torture, Twincest, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-04 14:20:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4140987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lea_ysaye/pseuds/lea_ysaye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now permanently established in Alexandria Rick is dealing with the death of his lover. Aaron brings a group of survivors into the safe zone, and one of the new people looks eerily familiar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Bring your tissues, folks, this is gonna be seriously sad. Because of the sensitive nature and sadness of the story I am putting the warnings all over even though they can be considered major spoilers. I agonised over that for a while, hope I made the right decision... There are still a few surprises I have decided to leave untagged for now... ;)

Rick woke up the same way he had woken up every morning in the last four months. Alone. Holding on to the last remnants of a dream where everything had turned out differently, as long as he could. Keeping his eyes closed. Maybe, just maybe, he could go back to sleep for a little while, go back to a world where Daryl was still sleeping by his side, was still very much alive. It had never worked before. It didn’t work now. Sighing, Rick rubbed his eyes. Then he sat up.

The room was lit up brightly around him with the slanting early spring sun. Daryl had loved waking up in this room because it faced east. He’d usually been awake long before Rick, and had gone and sat in the window, letting the sun warm him, watching the sleeping street below. Every morning when Rick had opened his eyes, there they were, Daryl’s eyes on him. Until one morning they weren’t. And each morning since he remembered this first night alone, the first waking up in the big bed by himself.

That first morning he had woken up to an overcast sky. There had been a thunderstorm during the night, but Rick, heavily sedated, had slept through it almost completely. He’d awoken once, briefly, disorientated when a clap of thunder had seemingly crushed the house beneath it. He’d been sure later that Daryl had been right beside him when he woke from the thunder, that they’d been asleep in each other’s arms like so many nights before. But he knew that was just a drug-induced hallucination. Rick cherished it like a memory.

Now he got up and padded over to the bathroom. He’d done the same that first morning. Then, he’d been wearing jeans and a shirt, which nobody had bothered getting off him the night before, and both of which had been covered in blood. Daryl’s blood. There had been so much of it, seeping from wounds too numerous to count, yet each one burned into Rick’s soul for eternity.

Another memory that Rick wished wasn’t a memory at all, and yet one that he would never let go if such a thing was offered. Daryl dying in his arms. His eyes seeking him out, struggling to see him through the encroaching haze, through the pain, the brain no longer getting enough oxygen. Blood pulsing from wounds with every heartbeat. Rick had felt the life slip away beneath his hands, literally felt it running through his fingers, seeping into the ground, into the fabric of his heart.

Rick stripped off his sweatpants and T-shirt, then turned on the shower. There was no blood on his clothes this morning. Stepping into the hot water another memory hit, prickling. The one and only time he and Daryl had had sex in the shower. It had been steamy and hot, as expected, and Rick wondered now why they’d never repeated the experience. Now they never could.

For a while after it had happened Rick had contemplated asking someone else in the house to swap rooms with him because the memories were so constant, and so painful. But after a few weeks he had realized that he could no longer even picture Daryl’s face unless he was in their room. He didn’t even have a photo of him. He’d kept the room.

Rick dressed without much thought to what he was putting on his body. He had loved watching Daryl getting dressed in the morning. There had always been such an urgency to it, a sense of anticipation to finally get out of the house, this confined space. Rick knew Daryl had never really settled in Alexandria, not like the rest of them had. He’d become better at tolerating it, and who knew, he might have gotten used to it, eventually. Now Rick knew he himself would never get used to it. He’d never get used to any place again, because none of them contained Daryl.

These days Rick was the one who couldn’t wait to get out of the house. As much as the reminiscing had become a part of his life, as much as he needed it, each time he did it another piece of his soul died. By the time he was dressed in the morning he was usually ready to smash everything around him to pieces. Better to face the day ahead then, which did not usually contain Daryl’s ghost. The memories were easier to deal with as long as Rick kept busy.

*

There were people in the kitchen. Carl was feeding Judith, who had recently started to toddle. Rick smiled at their interaction. The others took turns having the baby sleep in their room. Rick had tried having her a few times, but she was a fussy sleeper now, and the little rest he got was so precious that after a few mornings of Rick looking like he hadn’t slept a wink Carol and Carl had taken over coordinating Judith’s care. Rick spent time with her every day, but he always got to a point where the memory of Daryl cooing over his li’l asskicker brought tears to his eyes. When he got to that stage someone always noticed, and took the baby off to bed, or for a feed.

Carol poured him a cup of coffee and motioned him to sit at the table. “Sleep alright?”

Rick nodded. He took the coffee and drank it automatically. Coffee was still a wonder to them all that had to be cherished, and each supply run had it on the list of essential items. Daryl had loved coffee. He’d usually taken the first cup out onto the veranda, drinking it slowly, savoring it like only Daryl could. Sometimes he’d have a smoke with it, for which Rick had always told him off if he caught him. Thoughts of harsh words made Rick feel guilty, so he drained his cup, pushed the plate of toast away that Carol had placed in front of him and got up.

“I’ll go round to Deanna’s. We’ve got some plans to finalize about this week, and we’re expecting Aaron back with the new group today.”

Carol frowned up at him. “No breakfast?”

Rick shook his head. “Not today, no.”

The others were giving him looks, he knew. Every morning he was under scrutiny, watched for any indication as to his state of mind. He didn’t blame them, he’d’ve done the same. These last four months had been hard for them all, dealing with Daryl’s death, and with their leader being so thoroughly devastated as to be completely useless to them. In a way, Rick had been grateful to be where they were. The burden of keeping his family alive would have crushed him out there in the wild. But out there Daryl had been with him; and had they stayed away from this honey trap none of it would have happened.

He had to get out. With a curt nod in the general direction of the group Rick strode over to the door and all but wrenched it open. Today was not a good day. Rick hurried down the path, then walked quickly away from their home, and Daryl’s ghost.

*

Work at Deanna’s was dull that morning, but necessary. There was damage to some stretches of the wall, and supply runs to find replacement parts had to be organized at highest level. Rick and Abraham pored over maps and plans for an hour, then Rick suggested they go and walk the perimeter, to check that their calculations made sense. There was no real need for this, they’d gone over the figures several times already, but these days being indoors for any length of time was as impossible for Rick as it had always been for Daryl.

He didn’t know whether it was in response to losing his lover that his mind and body had decided he needed to spend more time outdoors, or whether it was his normal reaction to any loss. Rick remembered dimly that he’d had similar urges when Lori had died, but other than that he couldn’t recall feeling like this then. When Lori had died Daryl had been there to help him. Now Rick had nobody to take on that role. Not that he expected it as his right, but the devastation was the greater for not having a strong pair of arms to hold him when the loneliness became overwhelming in the middle of the night.

Abraham looked at him with concern as they walked along the wall. “Something you gotta get back to?”

Rick looked at him, puzzled. “What?”

“You’re running like there’s a fire somewhere. You got somewhere to be? I can finish off on my own if you’re in a hurry.”

Rick shook his head, slowing his steps deliberately. “No, got nowhere to be. Let’s do this.”

*

When they got back to Deanna’s after about an hour there was a small group of Alexandrians waiting on the front porch. Deanna was talking with Aaron, her face looking worried. Aaron spotted them first and came down the steps. Rick had a feeling he wanted to head him off.

“Something the matter?”

Rick looked at the leader of their scouting outfit. Aaron had become a good friend since that first time they’d met in the barn, and he understood better than most of the others what Rick was going through. He and Daryl had become friends, and Rick knew that Daryl had trusted Aaron completely. He had spent a lot of time in the other man’s company since the night of Daryl’s death. They didn’t speak much, but Rick could tell now how impeccable Daryl’s instincts had been. Aaron was good people.

Aaron looked uncomfortable, and a little puzzled, Rick thought. He stopped in the middle of the path, and while he didn’t lay a hand on him Rick could tell that Aaron wanted to prevent Rick from entering the house.

“Nothing’s the matter, Rick, not… really. I brought the group in, the one we talked about? They seem decent people, for the most part. But there’s something I want to explain, before you meet them…”

At that moment the front door to Deanna’s house opened and Rick could see two men stepping through. He watched the one in front come down the steps from the porch, and in his cop’s eye assessed him like any stranger he met. The man was in his mid-40s, about 5’11, slim build. His dark blond hair was quite long and could have done with a wash. He looked like they had all looked after months on the road.

The man now addressed Aaron. He had a slight foreign accent Rick couldn’t immediately place. “I don’t mean to be rude, but we’ve been waiting an awfully long time. Some of us haven’t eaten in days. And frankly, you people are weirding me the fuck out…”

Rick looked at Aaron and then back at the man. Something was off. Aaron looked more uncomfortable than ever, but he wasn’t looking at the man who had spoken. Instead, his eyes were flickering nervously to the second man, who was half hidden behind his companion, then at Rick.

Rick took a step closer, trying to see the second stranger more clearly. He looked very much like the first man, in his dirty clothes and matted, straggly hair, which was a shade darker than the other man’s. He wasn’t looking at anyone, but kept his eyes on the ground, biting his nails and moving from one foot onto the other nervously. Rick stepped closer still.

“Rick…” Aaron was trying to catch his attention, but Rick held up his hand. He tried to catch the second stranger’s eye.

“Do… do I know you from somewhere…?”

The stranger finally looked up, and Rick froze on the spot. For a long moment he just stared. There were many differences, yes. His posture was unfamiliar, and his hair was very different, but despite it all… Rick’s heart skipped several beats and his breath caught in his throat.

The stranger had Daryl’s face.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things are revealed, some answers given. New puzzles are starting to emerge.

"We'll talk inside. People are staring to stare. Rick..."

Rick let himself be led to the house, Aaron's hand on his elbow. He couldn't take his eyes off the stranger with Daryl's face as they passed him, and kept the newcomers in view over his shoulder. He could feel Aaron lean in closer.

"Come on. We can talk in private. People are freaked out."

Rick nodded mechanically. He felt numb. Was this just a freaky coincidence? It must be. Maybe he was imagining the resemblance. But the others were seeing it too. They had tried to warn him.

Aaron guided him into Deanna's living room. Rick was grateful for the other's support. He wasn't sure he could have done anything on his own that moment.

"Sit."

Rick did as he was told and sat in the armchair facing the large sofa. A moment later the two strangers stepped into view and sat down opposite Rick. He couldn't stop his eyes from going right back to the second stranger's face. It both was and was not exactly the same as the face of the man Rick had loved more than his own life.

The man’s expression was different, more innocent. More trusting? But there was also a sadness about him, a desperation, like something had broken in his life recently and he was scrambling to put it back together. Rick wondered how he knew that. Just from looking at a face?

The blue eyes and the cheekbones were identical to Daryl's. Rick knew them well, from hours spent just looking at his man, trailing his features with gentle fingers. The stranger even had the mole in exactly the same spot on the left, above the lip. Rick looked away, tears welling in his eyes.

"Can someone kindly explain what's going on?"

It was the first stranger who had spoken, and when Rick looked at him he could see some hostility on his face. His eyes flickered between Rick and the second man, and Rick realized how scared the stranger must be by his behavior.

It was Aaron again who spoke. He'd sat down at a right angle to Rick and kept them all in view. Rick could feel the presence of others behind him.

"Rick, these are Connor and Murphy MacManus."

"Brothers?"

"Twins," the one called Connor corrected. "Fraternal, obviously. If we were identical you'd be staring like a madman at me, too." He looked back at Aaron, clearly annoyed. "Explanation, please?"

Rick couldn't blame the man. He would have been freaked out too. It was Aaron who supplied the explanation.

"Connor, Murphy here looks an awful lot like Daryl..."

"Daryl?" Connor looked more confused.

"My lover," Rick heard himself say. Why he’d share this intimate information with these strangers he had no idea. He could feel Murphy's eyes on him, but didn't look over. The sadness threatened to overwhelm him. His mind was suddenly full of images of Daryl, and then a strange, soothing feeling seemed to thread into the sadness. Rick looked up, stared at Murphy, whose eyes were calm but infinitely sad.

"When you say Murphy looks like Daryl, what do you mean, exactly?"

There was still hostility in Connor's voice, but then something strange happened. Even though Murphy hadn't moved or said a word Connor turned round and looked at his brother as if listening intently. His expression changed, and when he looked at Rick the hostility was gone.

More to get his mind off Daryl and move the strange conversation into safer waters Rick addressed Murphy.

"Where did you come from?"

It was Connor again who answered. "Boston." Then, interpreting Rick's look of puzzlement correctly, he added. "Murphy, he... He doesn't really talk..."

Now it was Connor who looked sad and desperate, and Rick's heart went out to the man. Murphy’s hand slowly crept up his brother’s back, until it came to rest on his neck. Rick could see him drawing soothing circles on the skin, and was powerfully reminded of the same gesture between him and Daryl. He wondered what the twins’ relationship was like.

Aaron broke the uncomfortable silence. “Rick, I know this is weird right now, but can we talk about what to do next with Connor and Murphy’s group? The rest are next door, and some are not in great shape.”

Rick nodded. He tried to pull himself together. They still conducted and recorded interviews with all newcomers, but they shared them out more equally between them. He squared his shoulders. He would definitely do the one with these two. He looked at Aaron.

“I’ll start with the brothers.”

*

“Usually we do these one by one, but since your brother can’t answer questions… Sorry, Murphy, I should address you directly…”

Rick felt the strange sensation again, like a feather light touch against his mind. It was like a caress, telling him not to worry about it. He saw Connor giving his brother a quick look, then Connor looked back at him. There was a lot of guardedness still in the man, and it was even more obvious because it was so totally absent in Murphy. Rick’s gaze wandered back to the second twin.

“Is it all right if I ask Connor the questions for you both, though?”

A nod. Rick forced himself to look back at Connor. It was easy to lose himself in Murphy’s face, forget for a second that he wasn’t Daryl, even though the longer they spent together the less pronounced the similarities seemed. Somehow, though, Rick felt very close to his lover right now, and it was less of a sad feeling than it had been in a while.

“Connor, you said you came from Boston? But that’s not where you were born, is it?”

“No. We’re Irish, born and bred.”

“How long have you been in this country?”

“On and off for years… when all this hit we’d just returned from Ireland a few months ago.”

Rick thought that Connor was holding something back. He decided to change his usual interview protocol.

“I have three questions for you. We ask them of anyone. You can answer for both of you, you should know Murphy’s answers, I’d guess.”

Connor nodded stiffly. “Ok.”

“How many walkers have you killed?”

“Too many to count. We both have.” There was no hesitation there.

“How many people have you killed?”

Now Connor hesitated, looked down, then at Murphy. Murphy nodded, placing a hand on Connor’s leg.

“Same answer.”

Now it was Rick’s turn to hesitate, to fell puzzled. His protocol slipped.

“What do you mean? Why?”

“Before all this, Rick, Murphy and I were internationally sought serial killers.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's going on with the twins?

Murphy suddenly leapt off the sofa and was past Rick and out the door before anyone had even had a chance to blink. Rick’s focus was entirely on Connor, so he had not picked up on any cues from Murphy as to what he was about to do. When he rushed past, Rick only caught a fleeting glimpse of the man’s face, but was startled by the level of anguish and misery etched there. At the same time Rick felt a rush of such sadness he thought he might go insane. Then a shutter seemed to slam down, and the feeling vanished. He wondered later whether he had just imagined that whole part of it.

Connor made to rush after Murphy, but this time Rick was quick enough. He grabbed the man’s wrist with iron fingers.

“Lemme go!” The words were half snarl, half growl, but Rick just stared him down.

“What is going on? Tell me. Everything.”

Connor’s eyes were full of hatred, and fear. Rick saw an almighty struggle behind the blue eyes that were very unlike his brother’s, or Daryl’s. He knew that Connor was using all his willpower not to lash out. Somehow he knew that Connor could hurt him with more than just his fists. Finally, the man took a deep breath.

“I will. But if you don’t let me go after him first I swear you will regret it.”

So Rick let him go. Connor disappeared with a flash after Murphy. Rick got up and looked at Aaron, whose eyes were puzzled and reflecting the concern Rick felt himself. Rick stopped right in front of their recruiter.

“Did you know?”

“About their past?” Aaron shook his head. “I don’t always ask them what they did before. You know how it is out there, much more about being flexible and trying not to spook them. But maybe we need to add some mandatory screening questions to the proceedings.”

“I think we do,” Rick agreed. “What were those two like while you observed them?”

Aaron considered. “They kept themselves apart from the others in the group. But the others seemed to seek the brothers out a lot and didn’t make any decisions without checking with Connor first.” He looked uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, Rick, this has really gone sideways…”

Rick shrugged. “Let’s see what’s up with those two.”

They stepped out onto the veranda, past the others. Rick had been so focused on the new men he’d almost forgotten that Carol, Deanna, Maggie and Abraham had been in the room with them. Rick’s eyes scanned the street. The brothers were a distance off, on the sidewalk maybe forty yards away. Murphy was pacing back and forth, his hands buried in his hair, seemingly pulling hard. Connor was talking to him, trying to get his brother to stop, attempting to grab him, but Murphy pulled away every time. Then, suddenly, he stopped, his back arching, head thrown back, arms rigid by his side. He uttered a single, piercing scream that reverberated all up and down the safe zone. Then he collapsed.

There was movement all around Rick. Connor had caught his brother and was clearly calling for help now, but Rick couldn’t hear it through a rushing in his ears. His head felt fuzzy, full of static, but every so often an image would flash in his mind. These images vanished before he could even get an inkling of what they were, except that they were unrelated to what was going on around them.

Rick was running to where the brothers huddled on the sidewalk, aware that Carol was there with him. She dropped down next to Connor who was holding a shaking Murphy in his arms. The unconscious twin was clearly having some kind of fit. His eyes had rolled back so that only the whites were visible. He had gone so rigid Rick thought something might snap any moment. His fists were balled so tightly Rick could see blood dripping from where his fingernails were digging into the palms. There was blood and foam running down his chin. It looked like he’d bitten through his lower lip.

“Help him, please, help him…” Connor’s voice was desperate and Rick felt a powerful sense of pity for the man.

Carol looked at Rick helplessly, then at Connor. “Not much we can do right now. We have to wait until this stops, we can’t move him like this. I don’t think we have anything to give him that would help, not in the middle of this… Make sure he doesn’t have trouble breathing, and don’t hold him down too tight, that’ll just hurt him more.”

Connor looked defeated. He nodded, tears now running down his face. He held his brother gently, and they all waited. Afterwards Rick didn’t think it could have been more than a few minutes, but it seemed an eternity at the time.

*

It was getting dark outside. Rick was sitting in an unfamiliar living room, just as plush and expensive as in their own house. There had been people coming and going for a while, but eventually Rick realized he’d been alone for quite some time.

His brain was still trying to process all that had happened since he’d set eyes on the newcomers for the first time. There was too much to take in all at once, and Rick’s nerves, which had been not very robust ever since Daryl’s death, were close to breaking point.

He wanted answers. To the question of how these two madmen had ever made it into his safe zone. Why that Irishman walked around with his lover’s face. And most of all, and that was a strange priority, what had happened to Murphy during the interview.

Rick looked up at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. A moment later Connor came into view. The man looked exhausted. He threw himself into an armchair across from Rick, rubbing his eyes. Rick waited. He observed the other man. His body showed the exhaustion and tension. He was still wearing the faded, dirty clothing of travel. There was some fresh blood on his t shirt, from where Murphy's hands had brushed him. Rick knew Murphy’s blood was on his shirt, too.

Rick remembered the feel of the Irishman against him as he had helped Connor carry Murphy into the closest house that was as yet unoccupied. Murphy's body under the tatty, unfamiliar clothes had felt nearly identical to Daryl's, and Rick's body had ached with the sensation. The same broad shoulders, the same feel to the chest where he had held on to Murphy as Connor had let go briefly to pull back the covers as they had lowered him onto the bed upstairs. The one difference was that Murphy was much too thin. Rick had a feeling that that was a recent development.

As he had looked down at the still form of Murphy on the bed, his face smooth in his semi-conscious state, Rick had been reminded of Daryl’s motionless form as dawn had broken on the morning after the attack. It had been him who had pushed the knife into the base of his lover’s brain, to spare him the fate that now awaited all those who died alone. Rick had waited a long time before doing this last deed for his beloved, because it felt more final than just holding his lifeless body.

Rick had left Connor with his brother, blinking away tears, and gone downstairs to wait. After a few minutes Carol had arrived with the bag full of medicine and equipment. That had been Pete’s bag, the only useful thing he’d left behind. They had no doctor now, and while Carol was doing her best this was beyond her, and Rick could see the worry on her face as she had gone upstairs.

Now Rick needed answers, but uncharacteristically he wasn't quite sure where to begin.

“Tell me about Boston,” Rick said eventually.

Connor looked at him for a long minute. He seemed less impatient, less hostile now. Somehow, Rick thought, he looked less complete without his brother, even though he had been much the more dominant of the pair throughout. Rick had a feeling Connor had been the dominant one even when Murphy had been able to speak.

When he finally replied Connor’s story sounded like the plot of a bad movie to Rick. But in this world not much surprised him anymore, and the idea of two brothers from Ireland visiting vigilante justice on Boston's underbelly didn't seem as strange as it might have once. Rick wasn't sure but he seemed to vaguely recall a story in the papers about ten or eleven years ago chronicling the MacManus' killing spree. On balance Rick decided that what the brothers had done had been for the right reasons. And their skills would come in handy here, he knew.

But there was still the question of what they had been doing since the world had gone to hell. Rick had a feeling that it would be much harder to get a straight answer from Connor on that. He had been very free with the details about their life in Boston, almost overly keen to share. He probably knew, or guessed, that he and Murphy would be considered an asset to this community. If Rick's intuition was right, whatever had happen in the brothers' lives recently was much less worth bragging about. Rick decided to approach this next part of the interview in a roundabout way.

“The group you came here with, have you been with them long?”

Connor shook his head. “Couple weeks or so.”

“Who were you with before? What happened to them?”

Connor didn't say anything for a while. Then, “Look, Rick, I get why you have to ask these things. And I promise I will... we… will tell you. But this isn't just my story, and right now, with Murphy in this state, I just don't know what to do for the best. The truth is, we need this,” he indicated the room but Rick knew he was talking about all of Alexandria, “more than you need us.”

Rick knew what it must have cost the other man to admit it. He didn't know much about Connor yet but he could tell that this man was nothing if not proud of his independence.

“I am afraid bringing it up again, what happened to us, to Murphy, would do more harm than good. I'd tell you right now if I thought that would help my brother. But I need help Rick. Murphy is not well, and he's getting weaker. We can't survive out there any longer.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick remembers, for Murphy.

Out in the forest. Rick was sitting in Daryl’s favorite spot, a clearing about 200 yards from Alexandria’s front gate. A small brook was rushing past noisily, and Rick, sitting on a fallen tree trunk, let his mind wander back.

Back to that late afternoon, soon after they’d arrived at the safe zone, when he’d gone out to look for Daryl who’d not been seen since morning. Rick had known his lover wouldn’t wander too far without telling someone where he’d gone, so he’d followed the path to the white house where he, Carol and Daryl had met a few times, right at the beginning, to talk tactics. Sasha had told Rick she’d seen Daryl walk that way right after daybreak. When Rick hadn’t seen Daryl anywhere near the ruined house he’d walked on a little further.

First he’d heard the rushing water, then, a second later, had spotted Daryl sitting on the very same tree trunk he was sitting on now. Rick hadn’t approached his man. Daryl had needed alone time like other people needed air to breathe. Rick had just stood and watched for a while, content just knowing where Daryl was. Ever since then he had wondered if Daryl hadn’t known that Rick had been there, and whether it had been Daryl’s gift to him to let himself be observed for a while.

That day Daryl hadn’t done anything, just sat motionless, staring at the brook and the rushing water. Now Rick was doing the same, his head full of memories of Daryl. But there was more to occupy his mind now. After the talk with Connor the other day Rick had agreed to let the brothers and their group stay. He still felt some unease. Rick didn’t like not knowing what had happened to Murphy, it kept niggling at the back of his mind. The unresolved issue with the mute twin felt like a bomb just waiting to go off. But Rick knew that sending the brothers away would likely result in fatalities. Connor was right, Murphy was in no state to be out in the open, amid walking corpses.

On Rick’s request everyone had given the brothers their space, and Rick himself had kept his distance. But he’d had an eye on things from afar. Carol had told Rick there had been little to glean from Connor about Murphy’s condition, and even less from her examination of him after the seizure.

“Connor says his brother has never had a seizure before. He has no idea what happened, or so he says. But Rick, Murphy is seriously malnourished.” Carol had looked very concerned. “Connor wouldn’t tell me much, but I kept insisting and he finally admitted that Murphy has hardly eaten anything in weeks. He wouldn’t tell me why, but I’m sure he knows.”

Rick hadn’t said anything to Carol about his talk with Connor. Not that there was much to say. Rick had interviewed the rest of the twins’ group together with Deanna. They seemed decent, but none of them had had anything illuminating to say about the brothers. Their leader, a man called Ben, had looked uncomfortable when Rick had asked about Connor and Murphy.

“They’re awfully close, those two. Even for twins.”

Rick hadn’t pressed Ben. He had an inkling he knew what that might mean, but he didn’t think that particular secret was any of his business.

Rick hadn’t been back to the house where the newcomers were staying. Carol had gone a couple of times to check on Murphy, even though they all knew she couldn’t really do anything for him at this stage. Rick had stayed away, but not so much to give the brothers time to get used Alexandria. He would need some time to adjust to having the man with Daryl’s face around.

He had just arrived at that thought when he became aware that someone was watching him, just as he had watched Daryl, all those months ago. Rick didn’t have to guess who was watching, he could feel a feather light touch gently probing his mind. He sighed. It didn’t look like he’d have the luxury of getting used to Murphy gradually.

“You can come and join me, Murphy. I don’t mind…”

Rick didn’t know why he said it out loud, he was almost certain now Murphy could read his mind. There was a quiet rustle of leaves, footsteps, then a body sinking down onto the tree next to Rick. He didn’t look up. For the moment he didn’t want to see the unsettlingly familiar face.

“You shouldn’t be out here. It’s not safe, and you’re not well…”

Rick was surprised at the concern and gentleness he felt for this stranger. And suddenly, a longing so strong surged up in Rick that it was all he could do not to bury his head in his hands, letting the sadness overwhelm him. He missed Daryl, oh how he missed him…

And there was the feeling again, impossibly soft, pushing, gently, like a caress. Rick almost knew this wasn’t just his imagination, it was Murphy, connecting. Murphy’s mind, seeking, feeling. Rick had never felt anything like it before, but he let it happen, gave himself up.

_Show me Daryl._

It wasn't so much words Rick heard, or felt, in his mind, as feelings and images. But as Rick was a man of words, so that was what he would later remember. A conversation. It made total sense at the time, even if afterwards Rick was never quite sure that he hadn't imagined it all.

So he showed Murphy his lover. Showed him the man he had hoped to spend his life with. And in showing this stranger, and Murphy helping with that strange mind of his, Rick saw and remembered things he thought would never come back to him.

Their first kiss. That night on the farm, after Sophia. Daryl devastated, hurting so much. Lashing out at them all, angry, and so sad. How he had cried in Rick's arms after he'd run out of energy. That feeling of their strong hunter in his arms, shaking, clinging on. Rick, crying himself, holding Daryl gently, there, in the middle of that field.

Their first time. Not until that first desperate winter. Rick and Daryl out on a forage, alone for the first time in weeks. They'd both been hesitant, nervous. Neither of them had been with anyone in a long time. Rick would learn later that all of Daryl's previous experiences had consisted of quick gropes and hand jobs in insalubrious saloon bathrooms, and blowjobs in beat up truck cabins. Once he knew Rick had made sure that all their love making was pleasurable and gentle. He'd delighted in the enjoyment Daryl had gotten from their times together. He'd felt honored and a little proud how the hunter trusted him increasingly throughout that first winter.

Then Murphy's seeking mind alighted on the memories of what had happened early on at the prison. Rick felt ashamed of those memories, and he tried to pull away from whatever it was Murphy was doing. But the touch was gentle on his mind.

_Don’t be ashamed. He loved you, I can tell… Let me see…_

Murphy’s hand alighted on Rick’s hand where it lay against the tree trunk.

So Rick relented. Let Murphy see the madness. Daryl slamming into the wall, Rick snarling. Fear. So lost, both of them. Daryl shrinking away, Rick too far gone to notice. And then he came back. Tears, screaming, Rick sobbing in Daryl’s arms.

Sadness after that. Daryl going with Merle. The separation when the prison fell, the pain. Joe’s gang hurting them all, hurting Daryl. Rick’s madness, again. Carol gone, then Beth. Beth’s death, and how it changed Daryl. The renewed withdrawal, Daryl’s loneliness, his desperation at losing more and more of their group. His withdrawal back into that lonely place they’d both thought he’d left behind.

Rick could feel Murphy’s sadness. It felt like a cloud had drawn over his thoughts, a dark cloud threatening rain. Oddly, finally sharing this sadness with someone was helping, despite it also bringing pain. Sharing his memories with a stranger was like letting Daryl know just how much he was still being missed, day after day.

Then the last bit of their story. Alexandria. As much as they’d tried, the safe zone had never truly become Daryl’s home. All the others had been relieved to find shelter, food and civilization. Daryl felt mostly trapped. But he had tried, for all their sakes. For Judith, for his family. For Rick. And he had died defending the safety they had found behind walls, even if he didn’t feel safe there himself.

Rick’s memories here were difficult to understand. Not because he didn’t want to remember, but a lot of it just wasn’t there, or jumbled. He wondered what Murphy was seeing now. One moment Rick was running through burning streets, the next he was weeping next to an open grave. He could feel the blood coating his hands, feel the body of his lover heavy in his arms. Hear the screaming, the shouting, the running footsteps. Walkers everywhere, and Wolves.

Their leader, stepping forward through the wood smoke, leading a handcuffed figure. Daryl, beat up, bleeding, but alive. Rick had felt fury and relief then, and a dark foreboding. Then nothing, for a long time. Blanked out, or near as. He could still hear the laughter, but not see anything.

If Murphy had asked him to actually say out loud what had happened then Rick could have recalled what the others had told him since. How the leader of this band of outlaws had stabbed his lover in the back and side a dozen times, laughing hysterically. Why, they never really knew. How Rick had pulled his gun, shot the brute between the eyes. That it was a wonder the other Wolves hadn’t killed Morgan on the spot. What a miracle it was that Rick’s group and the Alexandrians had managed to defeat the outlaws and fight off the walkers successfully.

Rick knew it all as a narrative, but Murphy didn’t, couldn’t ask. He didn’t have to. He was there with Rick, holding Daryl, looking into impossibly blue eyes as they slowly lost focus, heard the last words his hunter had ever said to Rick. “Y’re safe, ‘s all that matters…”

Tears were falling again, thick and fast. Rick hadn’t opened his eyes once, hadn’t looked at Murphy. He didn’t have to. Murphy was there in his mind, soothing, holding on. He was close by, to one side. Right in front of Rick was Daryl, looking on as Rick cried, face creased in a frown at the sadness, but a smile lighting up his eyes.

_You are all safe._


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick and Murphy try to help each other, but the truth is so overwhelming, it doesn't seem to be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is mention of torture in this chapter, and bulimia. Please don't read if these are triggers!

Evening, almost completely dark outside. The days were getting longer again but with the darkness still came the cold. Murphy had disappeared quite a while ago, Rick wasn't sure when. He could still feel that particular connection, however, and it was the distress coming down that line now that finally made him go back to Alexandria, and to the twins' house.

He knocked on the front door, but there was no answer. Rick tried the doorknob and the door swung open. The downstairs was deserted, but Rick could tell the twins – _Connoraswell_ \- were upstairs, in their room. Rick climbed the stairs.

He knocked again, this time on the twins' door. He hadn't even realized how odd it was, that the men were sharing a bedroom. There were plenty of rooms in this house. And how did he even know they shared? All he should really be certain of was that this was the room they had brought Murphy to the day before. And that there was only one bed inside.

"Come in."

Connor's voice shook Rick out of his musings. He opened the door and peeked inside. Connor was sitting in an armchair, holding a book. Rick thought he looked like he was just pretending to read. There was tension on Connor's face, and... Was it anger? Rick wondered why.

When he stepped through the door Rick could see that the bed was empty. Crumpled sheets were drooping to the floor. Then he heard a noise from the en-suite bathroom. It sounded like retching. Rick's head snapped back at Connor.

"What's going on? Is he all right?"

Connor shrugged, then rubbed his eyes with one hand. "Dunno, Rick. No... No he's not all right."

"Why is Murphy throwing up, Connor?"

Rick could feel the distress from the twin in the bathroom pressing against his mind. He thought Murphy was trying to block him out now, but failing. Rick could taste bile in the back of his own throat. The misery hovering just at the edges, and behind the bathroom door, now was almost overwhelming.

"I made him eat soup. That's why he's in there. I made him eat, and he didn't want to..." Connor sounded so sad, and so tired.

"You mean he's making himself sick on purpose?"

"Aye... Well, not exactly, not like you're thinking. I don't believe he can help it, not really." Connor got up. "C'mon, let's go downstairs."

Rick hesitated. "But shouldn't someone be with him?"

"He's ok on his own, for now," Connor shook his head. "I'll know if that changes. And judging by your reaction you're linked in too, so you'll also know."

With that odd comment Connor walked out onto the landing. Rick listening to the violent sounds from the bathroom for a moment longer. The connection with Murphy suddenly became more lucid again. Rick could tell it was an effort for the man hunched over behind the door, but Murphy’s thoughts were soothing.

_Rick, it’s ok. ‘m ok. Go with Conn…_

So Rick followed the other twin out of the bedroom and closed the door.

*

In the living room Rick sat down in an armchair opposite Connor, his back to the staircase. He looked at the Irishman, but Connor wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Is all this," Rick motioned in the general direction of the upstairs bathroom where he knew Murphy still crouched, "to do with whatever happened to your brother? The thing you two won't talk about?"

Connor half nodded, half shrugged. Rick sighed.

"When he came to me earlier I should have asked him about it. Maybe he could've shown me..."

"What do you mean," Connor interrupted. "When he came to you?"

Rick felt confused. "Murphy came to that clearing outside the walls. Daryl used to go there, and I..."

Connor leaned forward. "Murphy hasn't left our room since we got him in there yesterday, never mind Alexandria. I doubt he could walk fifty yards, he's so weak."

"But he was there, just this afternoon..."

"Did you actually see him?"

Rick thought back, realizing that he had never once opened his eyes in the clearing while Murphy was there. Or wasn't...

Connor looked half exasperated, half amused. "He's real good at that, Murph is. Getting in your head… Fucker... " he added under his breath. Eyes cast down Connor went on. "I don't know what to do, Rick. He's not getting better on his own. I thought, eventually he'd get so tired of feeling famished and weak he'd just start eating again. But it's been weeks..."

Connor broke off and looked up the stairs behind Rick. Rick turned around. Murphy was descending the steps slowly, holding on to the railing. Rick could tell how much of an effort that was for him. When he reached the bottom of the stairs he stopped. He held Rick's gaze with overly bright, almost feverish eyes.

_Come with me._

The _almostwordsbutnotquite_ were accompanied by an image too familiar and too painful to misinterpret. A body _– Darylalmostyetnotenough -_ close to his, pressed against him, a perfect fit - _closeasbutnotreally._ Rick glanced at Connor, who looked angry for the most fleeting second, then shrugged.

"If you want. He usually knows what he's doing. It might help."

And even though neither he nor Connor were mind readers Rick knew what Connor meant. _It might even help you both._

Rick got up and went over to Murphy. The other man looked at him like only one other person had ever looked at him. Daryl would lean in real close, making the moment just about them two. He’d pause, so close inside his bubble Rick sometimes freaked out. He’d inhale him. Feel him. Drink him in. Then he’d pull back and just look at him. Just like Murphy did now. Then the man who looked so much like Rick’s lover took Rick’s hand, pulled him up the stairs.

To Rick, it felt like a second later that they were both on the bed, completely naked. Murphy underneath him. Skin and bones, too thin to even still be alive, it seemed. But like his man, unmistakably his. Like Daryl, the same frame, the same wide shoulders, the same narrow hips. Fragile, more fragile than he was used to, but so similar Rick had to blink away the tears. Daryl had been lean at the end. Too many months of denying himself food to make sure Carl and the girls had enough. Too much focused on his family, always.

Rick wanted to scream. Apologize, tell Daryl he was sorry that someone else was making him feel this way. Protective, enthralled, aroused. But really, there was no need. This was Daryl. A weaker, gentler version, a Daryl without scars. The way he might have been, had his dad not gotten to him, had it not been Merle but Connor he grew up with. A Daryl who could have lived in Alexandria.

Rick was crying by the time they were both ready. Murph was looking at him, eyes full of trust. All their feelings were shared now; he needed this as much as Rick did. Rick felt the love, felt the sadness from the man he was about to fuck. Beneath the fragile form before him, Rick could feel the darkness, the danger that had once dominated Murphy’s life. And he could feel another darkness, another horror, more recent, and more terrible than anything the twins had seen before the world turned.

_I didn’t choose it, Rick. It chose me. If I could I would make it stop. Connor is so sad…_

A flash of darkness, then something red, spilling, running… gone almost too quickly for Rick to be sure it had been there at all… Rick blinked, then refocused on Murphy.

“Shhsh, Murph, don’t talk. ‘s not important, not now. This is for us, for you, to help…”

Rick brought himself into position, stroking warm skin, soothing, petting, comforting away some of the sadness. Murphy looked up at him, a question in his eyes, his mind.

_Conn…?_

Rick didn’t hesitate. If that was what Murphy needed, he would get it. He nodded.

“Course.”

A minute later the door opened and Connor stepped through. He was already pulling off his shirt, undoing his pants buttons. With an almost shy nod at Rick he stretched out next to Murphy as soon as his clothes were off. The twins scooted close together and Connor started kissing Murphy, gently, hesitantly, almost as if they had to rediscover, relearn the other after a long time apart.

Rick was surprised at how much the sight aroused him. He kept his eyes on the faces right in front of him as he took himself into one hand and took position between Murphy’s legs. The twins briefly broke apart as Murphy turned to Rick.

_Thank you, Rick. ‘m ready…_

As Rick entered the other man he suddenly realized what he’d been missing. It wasn’t the sex. It wasn’t getting off. It was the closeness to someone, a person, someone who needed him. Someone who was grateful. And now it looked like there might be two such people again.

Murphy was writhing underneath. Rick pushed in gently. He couldn’t quite distinguish between Daryl and Murphy any longer, but it didn’t seem to matter. Giving Murphy pleasure reminded Rick in the best way of all the times Daryl and he had given each other exactly what they needed. They were good memories.

Murphy was enjoying it, Rick could tell. He was fully there with him, yet he was also with Daryl. Saying the things to his lover that he never got the chance to say, doing the things he no longer could do to his man.

_I didn’t mean for it to be this way, you shouldn’t have died. We needed you… I need you. Why did you have to go?_

Murphy writhing, Murphy close. Rick crying, not wanting to let go. Knowing that once they came this man would just be Murphy again. No longer connecting with his man, no longer a conduit to Daryl. Rick knew what a privilege it had been, to feel so close to his man again. He was grateful to Murphy, grateful for the chance to heal a little. But it was not yet over, not yet enough.

*

Murphy lay curled up by his side, facing away. Rick knew the other man was awake but resting, conserving diminishing energy. He could still feel the feather light touch, Murphy's mind now seemingly permanently linked to his.

Connor was in the armchair near the bed, looking out the window. He seemed far away but Rick knew that he was linked in with his twin even more completely than him, keeping watch, monitoring.

Rick decided to try again for an explanation. "The flashes, Murph. What I saw, the darkness. Were they memories? Your memories of what happened?"

Murphy looked over his shoulder, then pushed himself around and up until his head came to rest against Rick's chest. From his vantage point, propped halfway up against the headboard, Rick couldn't really see the other man's face, but he noticed Connor looking round, at Murphy. The brothers communicated silently for a moment, then Connor sighed.

"Rick has a right to know, Murph. He might be able to help."

Rick felt Murphy nodding against his bare chest. He brought his hand up and started stroking Murphy's back gently. He could feel sadness and fear in the man. What could it be that made him this sad? Rick looked over at Connor.

“Will you tell me now?”

Connor looked at him for a long moment, then looked away. When he started to speak his voice was almost inaudible, as if by only whispering the truth he could take away some of its horror.

“About six months ago Murphy and I got separated. I was out on a run with some men from the group we were with. There weren’t many men in the group, but several women, and too many children. Too many to keep safe…

“We were about ten miles away when Murphy got in touch. The camp was under attack. I couldn’t make out much before it all went black. They’d knocked Murphy out. It wasn’t biters that had overrun our group, they’d been attacked by people. That other group was a lot like those Wolves you had here, from what I’ve seen in Murphy’s mind.

“When Murphy came round and reestablished contact he was in a room somewhere, locked in and chained to the wall…”

Connor stopped there and swallowed. Rick could see his eyes closing at the memories, and a single tear running down his face. Then he felt a movement against his chest. Rick looked down and saw Murphy looking at him with his overly bright, feverish eyes. Tears threatening to spill over there, too. Rick could feel the hesitation, the fear in the man resting against him. Murphy’s heartbeat had started to speed up, Rick could feel it beating against his chest. He tightened his grip around the too thin back.

“Show me, Murph, please. I want to help,” he whispered.

The darkness pressing in was absolute, and sudden. Then the red liquid was dripping, spurting, running again, and Rick realized it was blood. Small limbs, flailing. Small faces, contorting in agony. Screaming, screaming… Then Connor’s voice.

“The guy in charge of these people, he was mad. Insane. Somehow he realized that Murphy can get into people’s heads. I don’t know how, and Murphy doesn’t either. Maybe he could do it himself? I don’t know…”

Connor’s voice shifted, and Rick looked up from where his eyes were boring into Murphy’s, flashing between the horror, and the dying man’s face. For now he knew. Murphy would die, unless they could find out how to stop him hurting himself. Rick’s eyes met Connor’s, and he was sure the other man knew the truth, too.

“They tortured him, Rick. Not just his body, though they did plenty of that. Broke virtually every rib at least once. His hand, his collarbone… They tortured his mind, man, every day.”

A small form whimpering, writhing. Murphy screaming, yelling until his throat was in shreds and no sound would come. A dark figure, hovering. Hitting, stabbing, stomping. Blood on the concrete floor, running into a drain. Murphy pulling on the chains holding him till his wrists were bloody…

Rick looked at Murphy’s arm curled against his side. He gently traced the almost invisible scars, white against pale skin. Why had he not noticed them before?

Now Connor’s voice was almost inaudible, but the words were so clear Rick thought maybe the other twin could get into his head as well.

“They tortured and killed a child in front of my brother every day for weeks, Rick. We never found out what purpose it served. I could hear those screams in my head, day after day after day.”

Connor’s voice was entirely expressionless, but Rick was shaking. He could feel Murphy’s mind trying to soothe him. It did no good, there was too much pain, too much suffering in him to suppress it all and comfort Rick. Connor carried on relentlessly, and Rick had to suppress the urge to bolt from the room. He could feel Murphy’s discomfort, could tell that his horror was adding to Murphy’s distress, but he couldn’t suppress the violent emotions at that moment.

“I don’t know how I found Murphy, it is all a blur. I know I wasn’t alone when I finally tracked down that group’s hideout, but I don’t know who the people were who helped me free Murphy. The first thing I really remember is standing in that room, Murphy against the wall, completely still, covered in blood. I thought he was dead… We got out, we got away… We both killed as many of the bastards as we could…”

His eyes were back on Rick, then flickered to Murphy. “He’s still trapped in that room, Murphy is. He’s in there, screaming, and I don’t know what to do to help.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Murphy rests, Rick and Connor try to relax, too.

Murphy was asleep. He lay curled against Rick’s chest, warm, too warm now, sleep uneasy, feverish. Rick’s hands were still soothing on his back, drawing tiny circles, as had been his wont to calm Daryl, help his man over into sleep when nervous tensions would not allow him to switch off. Now there was no need, Murphy’s energies were depleted, sleep the only option.

Still present, curled up in his mind like the fragile body in his arms, Murphy’s consciousness. Dreaming, remembering. Not nightmares, not exactly, now. Just disquiet, nervousness, but even his mind was exhausted, had had no choice but switch off, be quiet, for a while.

Listening to Murphy’s slightly strained breathing Rick was reminded of nights when he’d been awake out on the road while everyone else was asleep. For a time, even Daryl’s sleep had been more undisturbed than Rick’s. As their leader, the pressure had been constant, the worry ever present. And it had made Rick good at functioning on very little rest. He remembered the quiet of those nights, a quiet never absolute, always full of tension from all around him. This was what it was like now, in this room.

It was almost completely dark now. Rick looked over to the form just about still discernible in the armchair. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought Connor was looking at him, observing him as Rick held the man’s twin in his arms. Rick had felt the second twin’s jealousy, earlier, through the connection they both shared with Murphy. Now, with Murphy asleep, consciousness barely hanging on, Rick had no idea what the other man was thinking.

Or had he? When Connor got up in one fluid, silent motion Rick was not surprised, was in fact prepared. He carefully lowered Murphy onto the pillows next to him, pulling up the blankets to cover the emaciated form. Murphy hardly stirred, but Rick felt a tendril of fear sneak through his mind.

“It’s ok, he’ll settle in a moment.”

Connor’s voice was low, and much closer than Rick had anticipated. “We’ll not lose touch, we’ll both pay attention.” Whether this was reassurance for Connor or for himself Rick didn’t know.

“Are you sure we can leave him alone?”

“There’s nothing we can do now, Rick. We might as well let him sleep.”

_And relax some, too._

Rick wasn’t sure any longer whose thoughts these were. Carefully, not jolting the mattress, Rick got up and stepped around the bed. He followed Connor through the open door into the hallway and quietly let it fall shut behind them.

No sooner was the door closed that Rick could feel the other man crowd in, push him back, his shoulders hitting the wall. In the almost total darkness Connor was merely a shadow, but Rick didn’t need to see him. He could hear him, smell him, feel him, taste him. Breathing rapid, aroused. Cigarettes, new clothes, soap for the first time in goodness knew how many months. Lips on his mouth, hungrier, more sure, more insistent than either Daryl or Murphy would ever be.

Rick returned the kiss hungrily. Not sure yet what to expect, yet ready. Hands already busy on buttons, erection palpable, interested. A hand, guiding his onto the front of Connor’s jeans. The bulge there making his own cock twitch in response.

Then a hand on the front of his shirt. Rick felt himself pulled sideways, heard a different door click, open. They were through it in a second, into a smaller bedroom, deserted and flooded in moonlight. Ghostly black and grey outline. Connor, before him, breathing even harder. Rick felt his pants slide halfway down as the last buttons gave way. He made short work of Conn’s shirt, pushed it off broad shoulders. Strong and muscular, not so impossibly wide as Daryl’s, not fragile and birdlike as Murphy’s.

Rick stopped for a moment, traced collarbones, savored smooth skin, made the other man shudder, then groan. He needed this, needed to let loose, enjoy another person without having to worry about breaking them. Neither of them had realized it but Connor slamming Rick into the wall in that corridor had been the surest way of getting Rick into bed right now. He looked up at Connor, expression in the other’s eyes just discernible in the moonlight.

“Let me fuck you.”

Some hesitation, but then a nod from Connor. Not willing to wait any longer Rick grabbed both of Connor’s arms and pushed him backwards, towards the bed. At the foot end, he stopped. Undid the rest of his shirt’s buttons, shrugged it off and stepped out of his pants and boxer shorts. Connor’s shadow in front was mirroring him, and next moment Rick felt himself being pulled forwards and down by the twin.

Rick hovering over Connor’s prone form. Connor below him, adjusting on the mattress, breathing hard and fast. The moonlight outlining smooth limbs, muscular yet sharp and defined from months on the road. But strong, alive. Rick let his eyes travel, then rest on Connor’s erection as the other man pulled his knees up, planted his feet on the mattress, spread his legs for Rick to position himself between them.

Connor’s cock in Rick’s hand felt warm and solid. Rick started stroking it slowly, eliciting moans from the other man. Connor’s back started to arch off the bed, and he stilled Rick’s hand.

“You keep doing that, I’m done. Wanna fuck me? Do it now!”

So Rick prepared himself. He felt some slight apprehension. Daryl and him being so familiar with each other, spit had been more than enough lubrication. With Murphy it had been too, partly because he was used to being the bottom, and partly because the mental link had allowed Rick minute feedback on Murphy’s body’s reactions. But Connor, angry, tense and used to being a top himself, was a different story. Rick hesitated.

“What is it, man?”

“I don’t wanna hurt you… we have no lube…”

Rick thought he could hear Connor give an impatient sigh and almost had to smile. No, this was not a patient man.

“Just do it. Am no pansy, I can take it. Believe me, I won’t suffer in silence. If you really hurt me, you’ll know.”

In the end, he needn’t have worried. Connor seemed more experienced in this role than Rick had anticipated, and with small adjustments and pauses they managed well. Connor’s breathing picked up another notch, and as soon as Rick was confident that the other man would find it enjoyable rather than painful he started to move. Slow and deliberate at first, Connor writhing beneath him and moaning softly, Rick soon sped up, matching his rhythm with his own growing arousal.

He was close, so close. Connor, stroking his own erection, was close too, Rick could tell. The moonlight wasn’t enough to make out details on the other’s face, but Rick could feel the waves lapping, waiting to peak, shuddering through Connor. And then the other man tightened around him as the orgasm broke over him. Rick clung on for a moment, savoring the sensation, then let himself follow into ecstasy.

Rick was surprised when Connor pulled him down on top of himself and held fast. He hadn’t thought there was enough affection between them for a gesture like that. But he let himself be held, and was grateful for the closeness. Rick returned the embrace and for a long moment they just stayed still, enjoying the sensation.

As the endorphins diminished and reality reasserted itself Rick gently pulled away from Connor. He slumped onto the mattress next to the other man.

For a while neither of them spoke. Rick could feel the now familiar presence of Murphy in his mind getting stronger again. He had a feeling that the sick twin had closed himself off from him and Connor during the last half hour or so. Rick felt guilt at the thought. He wouldn’t have blamed Murphy if he was upset. There he was, dying in one room, while his brother and the man who’d been obsessing over him for the last few days went at it in the other.

Murphy had picked up on that thought and a soothing tendril came down the line, like a caress, a breath of tenderness. _No need to worry. I’m glad you’re there for us. It’s not just about me, Conn needs you too…_

Rick could feel Connor’s presence at the same time, warm and sleepy pressing against his side, and hovering, ever present in Murphy’s mind. The dying twin was the link between them, the reason they had to be together. The missing piece of the puzzle that would allow both men to find out what to do, and take the next step.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Please note, y'all, while this story is now finished, it is definitely the first part in a series!**
> 
>  
> 
> I already know what happens next, but somehow it makes more sense in my mind for it to happen in a sequel. I'll start writing as soon as possible.
> 
> Thank you all for your kind comments, I hope you enjoyed the story! x


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